Books [Artist--Old School]
Roaldus Richmond Recorded in Writers' Section Files
DATE: SEP 14 1940 ARTIST -- OLD SCHOOL
He was an old man of medium size with a face carved in lines of dignity and strength. The brow was broad and calm, the eyes still hold a light in their blue depths. He looked like a man who had found and used the right key to life, controlled his spirit and conquered his trade. A man who had lived and was not afraid to die.
The wife of Donegal looked older, but in her faded eyes was the same courage and faith. She sat rocking and watching her husband with quiet pride. Donegal smoked his pipe slowly and spoke with a Scottish burr.
“We are believers in God,” he said. “We were brought up so in Scotland, and with us it has lasted. Today many people believe in nothing. I feel sorry for them.”
Their home was a clapboard cottage with a steep shingled roof, set near the slope of a hill. Vines draped the porch and a little flower garden colored the front yard. At the side of the cottage was a vegetable garden, and on the hillside were a few apple trees.
“We came from near Aberdeen in Scotland,” he said. “Lord but it was a long time ago, Mary. We were married there. Mary was part Irish and her family had no wish to see her married to such as me. But we did it just the same and we sailed for this country. I had no craving for a split skull from an Irish